


I wanna get better!

by aelou



Category: Splatoon, Splatoon 2
Genre: Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-17
Updated: 2019-05-17
Packaged: 2020-03-06 22:02:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,339
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18859990
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aelou/pseuds/aelou
Summary: Tomini isn't the nicest squid around town- he's actually argued to be the meanest. but after an incident with one of team Suckerpunch, the leader of team whiteout begins to second guess his actions and realizes maybe being as aggressive and violent as he is isn't the way to go. through the help of his team and others, he realizes maybe he needs to fucking calm down.





	1. guitar hero but real

**“Tomini,** **_why_ ** **are we at Starfishbucks?”**

The question was posed by Hawke, the second in command of team Whiteout. They had never really talked much, but they certainly talked more than Angel. Regardless, they stood, alongside the rest of the team, before the door to the aforementioned cafe.

**“Because he wants revenge or something stupid, right?”** Damsel snickered, throwing her baseball cap up in the air again before catching it. 

**“Sh-shut up! I thought we could all use a break.”** A lie. It wasn’t hard to see through when he did lie, for his fibbing was worse than pinocchio's.

**“You did? Really? Did you also remember that Angel is lactose intolerant, and can’t enjoy much anything here besides the fruit drinks which xe doesn’t enjoy?”**

_ Tch.  _ Always like Hawke to constantly remind Tomini of his shortcomings. Whatever. Even if he was related to xer- even if Angel was his sibling, for Cod’s sake- he refused to provide much attention to that. He didn’t look, but he could feel the disappointment in the facial expression of Angel.

**“...Are you sure you want to do this, Tomini?”** The roller main spoke up, staring at him with a tired, gloomy expression.  **“You’re gonna do something that’s gonna cost you, and it’s gonna be something stupid. I can read those red devil eyes of yours.”**

**“Shut up! Either come with me, or leave. The choice is yours.”**

**“Then I’m heading back home.”** Turning around, Hawke started walking. That is, started. Damsel caught them by the shirt collar, and pulled them back into the small circle around the glass front door.

**“Ohohoh, oh no you’re** **_not_ ** **!”** It was a silent, yet evident “ _ If i have to go through this shit, so do you,”  _ kind of response to them.

Groaning in response, Hawke lowered their brow at her.  **“Why not? My mom’s going out of town, I wanted to tell her goodbye.”**

**“Because she leaves at 12, and you can go say bye around 11. Now get your ass in this store. You too, shithead. This is your idea- remember** **that.”** “Shithead” wasn’t exactly the nicest of nicknames, but it was what Damsel would call just about anyone on the team. Especially Tomini. Almost exclusively him. 

Pulling the handle on the glass door open, Damsel ushered the rest of her team in, though locked eyes with Tomini as he passed through, almost like a threat.  _ “This is your idea. Remember that.” _ A silent verbatim was passed through only eyes, and it seemed as though Tomini’s palms already felt sweaty.

Why was he doing this?  _ Because they made me look like a fucking fool. _

So what?  _ It’s because of that damn aerospray.  _

What good would this do him?  _ Revenge.  _

_ Revenge, revenge, revenge.  _ That was all that was on his mind now. He wanted justice- he had lost-  _ he had lost?!-  _ his title of turf war champion that he held for two consecutive years. And who was to blame?

A soft guitar riff played in the distance, backed by a drum beat and rough, yet soothing vocals.

The guitar belonged to no one else but Wrasse. Wrasse, an ex-player for team Whiteout. Wrasse, a team mate who had abandoned them for an impromptu visit to the train system under the city for like, two whole weeks. Wrasse, who had left him, and made a new team called Team Suckerpunch. Wrasse, who had kicked his team’s ass in disgrace and left them as second place for once in the finals.

Wrasse, who he was going to make regret ever being born and double-crossing him.

She was performing in her little band- _ her stupid little band- _ alongside her ominous as shell “boyfriend” Benkei, and that tiny pointy weirdo Scoot. Rocking the guitar while Benkei sang and Scoot played the drums, they weren’t much, but to the rest of inkopolis it seemed to be a nice indie group to listen to from time to time.

Their performance slot seemed just about over as she did a quick guitar solo, before both her and Scoot finished the song they were playing. With that, Benkei put the mic back on the stand, before grabbing the whole thing and speaking one last time.

**“Thank you again, Starfishbucks! It’s been a pleasure to perform for you. We’ll be here next thursday. If you’re interested in purchasing our recent track, please feel free to come up to us before we leave in a bit.”** Turning the switch on the mic off, he proceeded to lower the stand- as he was abnormally above average inkling height anyway. 

**“Tomini Sandollar, if you are trying to do what I think you’re trying to do, I’m going to beat you senseless.”** Hawke growled, seeing the abnormal focus Tomini had on the performing group.

**_“Fuck off.”_** His words were bitter, rude, and restless. He continued forward, though felt a sudden grasp on his arm.

**_“Please,_ ** **listen, you impulsive fucking piece of shit. Just once, think before you fucking act!”**

_ “ _ **_Don’t tell me what to do!”_ ** He bit back, clawing out of Hawke’s grip around his wrist, walking on to the stage as people in the cafe turned away from listening to chattering amongst themselves. Rolling up his sleeves, he walked onward, the rest of his team sitting down at a nearby table.

**“Why do you keep letting him get away with this shit, Damsel!”** Hawke slammed a hand down on the table, growling at her.

**“He’s not my responsibility.”**

Tapping on the table to draw attention to xerself, Damsel and Hawke turned to note Angel signing.

The two were lucky that Damsel had given them such a quick runthrough of sign language, because Angel signed way too fast for the normal person to understand.  _ “She’s right. He’s ours, isn’t he?” _

**“No, he’s not. For fucks sake Angel, he’s your older brother!** ** _Yet he acts like a two-year old!”_** Hawke growled again, 

**“** _ And yet you’re throwing a tantrum about his behavior, being akin to him in age. What makes you any better?” _

**“I-I- Shut up!”** Flustered, Hawke went silent, looking away.

Damsel snorted at that. “ **Xe’s not even talking, dipshit-”**

**“Both of you shut up! I hate this team.”** Hawke groaned, but knew it was something they’d say and push away. Where else could they go? The other teams were, well,  _ teams.  _ They had four players. They had more than enough inklings or octolings. Shell, even Xander’s old team had a temporary opening-  _ why hadn’t I jumped on that? Because I enjoy being made miserable by my own team?  _ Hawke couldn’t even put a finger to whatever mindless force made them the way that they acted. Of course, at least that force was much more tame than the force Tomini began to show.

**“Hey, if it isn’t the little Aerospray. Having fun flaunting your victories in song format?”** Tomini hissed viciously to the guitarist on stage who was chugging a water bottle. At the sudden voice, she choked, snorting water out of her nose.

**“** **_Bleugh!_ ** **Tomini, I don’t know what you’re here for, but if it isn’t for our music or for the coffee here, please get lost. I don’t have time to handle you today.”**

Who did she think she was? She  _ didn’t  _ have time? What kind of head-assery was this?  **“Don’t have time? What makes you think you’re in charge of everyone all of a sudden? One win really got to your fuckin’ head, huh?”**

**“Tomini, I’m** **_not_ ** **doing this.”** Wiping her face with the bottom of her shirt, she groaned at his response.

**“Yet you still have the audacity to speak back.”**

This time, he got a response from someone else instead- the lead singer. He was polishing Wrasse’s guitar, but took a quick break to  **“If you did not come here to enjoy our music, there are other tables further away, as well as many doors in this building. Feel free to leave through any of them.”**

_ This guy was going to get fucking decked. _

**“Hey, are any of you guys going to take control of your leader or something?”** Ripley had made his way over to the table he had spotted Team Whiteout sitting at, and figured that the rest of the team, of which he hoped, he  _ prayed  _ had some remote resemblance of a brain within them, would do something about the situation at hand.

Hawke was first to declare absolute uninterest in the situation.  **“Nope.”**

**“Why, what’s he doing?”** Damsel peeked around the booth the team occupied to see the sight of Tomini speaking to both Wrasse and Benkei now.

**“Uh, are you blind?”**

**_“_ ** _ No, mute.”  _ Angel signed, of which Ripley rolled his eyes at given xer joke. He was still new to understanding sign language, but Hawke’s personal groan helped provide more context as to it clearly being a sarcastic joke.

**“Well, if one of you guys doesn’t do anything, I can’t promise he’s coming back in one piece.”**

The goo-tuber main only laughed, Angel being disappointed they didn’t laugh this much to xer jokes.  **“And that’s a bad thing** **_because_ ** **?”**

This frustrated Ripley.  **“Seriously?** **_How_ ** **is that guy your leader when you talk so much smack about him?”**

To this, team Whiteout looked at one another, before turning to Ripley and simply offering him a shrug.  _ They really are a team with one brain cell they all collectively share, huh? _

Meanwhile, it seemed as though Tomini only made things blow out of proportion further. Countering what Benkei had to say to him, he proceeded to speak up, this time a bit uncomfortably loud as a few other guests turned around to note the clear tensions.

**“Shut up you inkless scrub! I’m not talking to you or talking about your shit ass music! I’m talking about your sad pathetic whelp of a girlfriend who can’t even fucking win a turf war on her own!”**

_ “ _ **_Leave her alone,_ ** **Tomini.** **_”_ ** The anger within Benkei’s expression and body posture made even Scoot and Wrasse uncomfortable. The sea urchin tugged desperately on the Manta’s arm, while Wrasse worked on folding the drum set nervously in the back, now completely ignoring Tomini.

**“No! Stay out of this, you** **_freak!_ ** **You know you couldn’t even win that match against us if it wasn’t for your team carrying your ass! That’s all you amount to, and all you’ll ever manage to be! A fucking** **_burden_ ** **wherever you go on whatever people you’re with!”**

**“Tomini, dude, calm down.”** Xander had now gotten involved, Kampa watching on as they chugged a large sized iced tea of some sort. The inkling had placed a hand on the other inkling’s shoulder, only for it to be smacked away.

**“** ** _Watch your mouth.”_** Benkei’s nose was scrunched up, sharp canines bared as though he planned to bite the inkling before him. Which, to say the least, would be the better option than what he had in mind.

Hawke and the rest of Team Whiteout was now out of the booth, approaching the scene yet still keeping a fearful distance. 

Growing anxious, they spoke up, asking  **“Hey, I seriously think we need to do something.”**

Damsel was quick to dismiss their worries. **“Yeah, like record this. Boutta have something hot on my finstagram!”**

**“Are you out of your fucking mind? Do something!”** Ripley couldn’t even fathom just how stupid this entire team really appeared to be. These guys had the turf war champion rank for two whole years? Sheesh, how bad was the rest of the competition?

Having more than enough of the interference of the manta ray, Tomini decided to include him within his next phrase.  **“Both of you are such sad fucking excuses of inklings- maybe that’s why you’re dating, huh? You can’t get any better than the rock bottom of each other?”**

With that, Benkei moved so fast, it seemed as though he had stopped time just to do so.

_ BANG! _

The guitar had found itself rather quickly against Tomini’s face, smashing him and sending him backwards a bit. Now on the ground, the rest of Team Whiteout ran up to him, while the Graydients and Team Suckerpunch fussed amongst themselves.

**“GRAY! MY GUITAR!”** Wrasse yelped at the sight of it, now surely damaged beyond repair with the raw force that Benkei, or “Gray” had used to hit Tomini with.

**“AGH, YOU FUCKING BASTARD! I’LL KILL YOU!”** Holding a hand up to his now bloodied...er, inked face, Tomini could barely manage to speak without pain. The guitar had hit him right in the face, getting his jaw and his nose. If he hadn’t broken it before, it surely must’ve been now. He felt Angel’s hand on his shoulder, though still struggled to open his eyes just yet from the raw stinging he felt.

**“Oh shit, oh my Cod,”** Damsel gasped at the ink-blood that seeped from his face, now lowering her phone as she had stopped the recording.

**“STOP FUCKING RECORDING AND CALL AN AMBULANCE!”** Hawke barked out, staring at the damage that Tomini had now taken.

**“For you?”**

**“CALL AN AMBULANCE FOR HIM YOU IDIOT! THIS ISN’T THE TIME TO BE CRACKING JOKES!”**

Angel waved before signing,  _ “But it is the time to be cracking skulls.” _

**“YOUR BROTHER MIGHT BE DEAD, ANGEL!”**

_ “Pity.” _

Damsel, on the other hand, had a much more light-hearted reaction, laughing at Angel’s joke. A glare of dismay was all that Hawke offered, of which Damsel came to an abrupt halt in her giggle.  **“What?”** She asked, shrugging,  **“It was funny.”**

“ **Leave him to the fate he so desperately deserves.”** Benkei murmured, turning away and taking the now semi-busted guitar and putting it into the case. Though it struggled at first to fit in with its now awkward form, it seemed to make it in once Benkei forced it in. Cripes, how strong  _ was  _ this guy?

**“YOU’RE RIGHT BUT CAN WE AGREE LATER ON THAT AND PERHAPS NOT HAVE A LITERAL HOMICIDE ON OUR HANDS!”** Hawke once again yelled, watching as Damsel dialed the emergency hotline as Angel poured some water onto napkins, wiping off whatever ink xe could from his face.   
  
  



	2. where will you be waking up tomorrow morning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> post getting hit in the face with a guitar, Tomini finds himself dwelling on things.

It had been a month now that they had finally lost and Tomini had gotten smacked down by Benkei, but the time hadn’t flown by fast. Every day was a constant reminder of his pathetic failure against that team-  _ that ragtag rogue group _ \- that had kicked Whiteout’s hypothetical asses. Yet despite the loss, the rest of his group was much higher in attitude than he was. Hawke and Damsel were both proud of Wrasse who they still considered a friend, while Angel respected the achievement of the inkling and her team. At the end of it all, Tomini was the only one who found himself  _ mad.  _

He was mad she had won. He was mad she had left him. 

He was mad she betrayed their team of 2 years.

_ And she had the audacity to be upset that she was “replaced.” _

What else was he supposed to do when she got caught up in some stupid excursion alongside Xander? What else was he supposed to do when his team’s victory streak was at stake?  _ What the shell was I supposed to do, huh?! _

The inkling was kicking around a soda can near his house, grumbling to himself. It wasn’t even really his house: it was his dad’s. His father had kicked him out for the night, not just on his behavior but for the argument he had with him. Perhaps coming out in second wouldn’t have stung as bad as it did if Tomini’s father didn’t judge him so harshly for choosing that as a lifestyle rather than a sport. But that was a world Tomini could only dream of, the same world in which team Whiteout was still victorious in.

**“Hey, Tomini, what the shell are you doing outside tonight?”** It was Hawke who had approached, on their motorbike no less. Hawke, along with being amongst the smartest squids on Tomini’s team, seemed to be the only true nocturnal one. They were always working late shifts, coming to their house late, and it was a surprise they had any energy for matches during the day. 

**“Angel isn’t helping you sneak in?”**

Tomini didn’t respond. Whether out of sheer cockiness or feeling embarrassed about himself was unclear to Hawke, who didn’t bother with it.

**“...You wanna crash at my place for the night, bud?”** No matter how much Hawke would fight with Tomini, they still saw him as their teammate, and more importantly, a friend. A horrible, rat bastard of a friend, but a friend no less.

**“I don’t need your sympathy.”** He grumbled, but Hawke looked past that. No matter how stubborn he was, Hawke could see through it: he was shivering, he was miserable, and the bags under his eyes told him he hadn’t been able to sleep much at all lately.

**“Get on the bike or I’ll throw you over my shoulder like a corpse.”** Hawke took off their helmet and spoke, wiping the sweat off their forehead as the essentially “toddler-like” inkling grumbled more nonsense to himself yet sat on the back end of the bike. Reaching into the bag attached to the back of the bike, he pulled out another helmet that Hawke kept for any other riders they’d take, which for tonight seemed to be him.

**“Just because I’m doing this doesn’t mean I owe you shit.”** Hawke wished Tomini wasn’t so afraid to show appreciation for anything. Yet still he spoke, an ungrateful attitude but a somber expression.

**“Mhm. You wanna stop at McClownfish and get some kelp nuggets before you go to bed?”** After having spent a solid 2, almost 3 years together as a group, Hawke had sort of memorized just about everything about their team. Wrasse liked to get milkshakes at 2 am with Hawke when she was really sleep deprived, Damsel bought tacos around 4 am and called it a breakfast taco by shoving eggs into it, and of course Tomini loved the kelp nuggets but had a special desire for the kids meal that McCF had. Even then, Tomini still found himself surprised every time that Hawke memorized anything their friends enjoyed. Probably because he never put that much care or effort into his own friendships.

**“Don’t they have those spicy ones now?”** Hawke found themselves weaving in and out of the midnight traffic as Tomini spoke.

**“Dude, are you out of your mind? I don’t want you shitting yourself to death at my house. I’m not getting you those.”**

Tomini found himself disappointed even if they were right.  **“Coward.”**

**“Fuck off.”** Speeding up, Tomini watched as they passed through countless intersections. He “lived” in the higher class area of town anyway, which was why he always took the train because of how far he was from the square. Even if Hawke was middle class, they still lived a distance off from Tomini’s house. In fact, it was funny enough, but Tomini was always the only one ever late to practice, which was why the first day Wrasse didn’t show up felt like such a joke.

**“You talked to Damsel lately?”**

**“Nah. She’s been busy at Crusty Sean’s. Same for Sable. I mean, I’ve been busy myself at Kensa lately.”** Hawke worked for Toni Kensa, a company that worked on both gear and weapons for turf matches. It was no surprise when their team was elected by Kensa to be given a sponsorship. Tomini couldn’t help but wonder if that would be revoked now that they had lost once. He felt himself too afraid to ask.

As they passed by the orange and white neon sign of McClownfish, Hawke pulled into the drive through, the small bike being sandwiched between cars behind them and before them. 

**“You going to get anything?”**

**“Eh...just an icee.”**

**“Fuck’s wrong with you, it’s midnight!”**

**“And? You’re getting nuggets.”**

**“Shut up.”**

Once the car in front of them finally moved, Hawke continued forward and pulled up to the speaker.

**“Hi, can I get one order of nuggets with the sea-cucumber flavored icee?”**

After receiving the price for the food, Hawke drove up to the window, surprised when Tomini prodded them with a card to pay for the food with.

**“What? Man, I don’t- I didn’t say you had to pay.”**

**“Just use the damn card, dude.”**

Hawke raised an eyebrow at him and smirked.  **“What’s wrong, you feeling guilty now huh?”**

**“Shut up! Take the fucking card!”**

**“Alright, sheesh. Just because you’re the team leader doesn’t mean you can boss me around outside of turf war too, dumfuck.”** Hawke snorted, taking the card and handing it to the nice octoling behind the counter. They swore they had seen him around before, but just couldn’t place a finger on who he was. Regardless, they drove up to the second window to receive the small paper bag of food that Tomini grabbed and held, checking for sauce packets immediately. 

**“Wait ‘till we get home to eat. I don’t need you dropping your food ‘cause I hit a pothole.”** Hawke scolded, while Tomini felt a wave of disappointment hit him. 

Finally getting to the small house that Hawke’s family owned, they pulled to a stop in front of the driveway, slowly entering it before putting down the push break of the bike and getting off.  Hawke removed their helmet and stowed it in the bag while Tomini followed as well before heading inside the house.

Turning the knob, Hawke entered their small yet comfortable home, taking their icee from Tomini and opening the straw to insert it into the cup, sipping as though they haven’t drank anything all day. Which, given their behavior, probably was true. The other inkling opened his pack of nuggets, peeling the annoying plastic off of the sauce container and dunking them instantly. In a strange silence, the two sat at the small table and ate. Scrolling through their finstagram feed, Hawke snorted on the ever so often occasion at something, earning a confused glance from Tomini. Occasionally they would raise their phone for him to see, though it seemed to at most get a chuckle out of him and at worst just get a tired glare.

**“Anyway, you’re welcome to sleep on the couch.”** The couch in question was actually a pull out bed, which always sucked to set up but wasn’t as bad as when Tomini had genuinely slept outside of his own damn house. He had nearly developed pneumonia if Angel hadn’t stepped in quicker, yet had wondered if he had been better off doing so.

He had to be nicer. He needed to be nicer. He found himself forcing the words out, struggling even then to say it.  **“Thanks, Hawke.”**

**“What was that?”**

Once again his guard was raised.  **“Don’t push your luck.”**

Raising their phone and pointing to it, Hawke retorted with,  **“Mhm. Too bad I recorded that.”**

Getting onto his feet instantly, Tomini shouted back,  **“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!”** Reaching for their phone, Hawke pushed him away with a hand.

**“Relax, you self sufficient snob. Wait, you probably don’t even know what those words mean.”** Hawke giggled once again, while Tomini groaned and continued to stretch his hand to try to grab the phone.

**“I didn’t actually record it. But you’re welcome, you know. Just stop being so uptight about it once in a while, and maybe I’ll buy you nuggets more often. Anyway, it’s crunch time, I gotta go work on a new umbrella design for Kensa. I’ll be asleep tomorrow morning if you need anything, so call Angel or Damsel for a ride back.”**

**“Got it.”** Tomini had already made his way over to the couch and was busy setting it up for himself. How often did he sleep here? At this rate, it almost felt as though this was probably his only bed rather than the one in his home he barely had access to. 

**“Night jerk.”** Hawke entered the room one last time only to throw out the now empty cup of icee into their trash, before waving a hand at him as they went upstairs.

**“Yeah yeah, fuck you too.”** Waving back, he had finally finished setting up the bed and walked over to the small closet nearby, taking out an anemone colored blanket and throwing it over the sofa. Hauling himself onto the pull out bed, he laid on his back in a mess as he looked up at the roof of the room, gazing at the green light of the fire alarm.

_ I should be happy, _ he thought, _ at least I have a damn place to sleep for once.  _ But he wasn’t. Here he was, still miserable, and still upset about the loss.  _ Shut up about the stupid L already!  _ He took out a pillow from underneath his head and covered his face with it, shouting into it briefly to muffle the noise. Even then it provided little of a method to truly get over it. 

_ You lost because you’re a piece of shit.  _ Oh good, now his brain wanted to do the talking.  _ Shut up! I lost because of how they did better than us, okay?  _ That wasn’t hard to admit.  _ Then why are you still upset? _

He hadn’t really considered anything to blame besides the match, finding it a simple and relative scapegoat. Removing the pillow now and sitting upright on the couch, he found himself genuinely wondering: what  _ really  _ made me upset?

It was a strange, guttural feeling that seemed to eat away at him. Like as though he had truly gone above and beyond with fucking up, like he always does,  _ like I did in that damn match,  _ yet this time it was the last straw. This time he was haunted, unable to stare at his own weapon before feeling it wreck him. Unable to look at water without feeling it bite at his heels. Discomforted by the site of team Suckerpunch, yet specifically an octoling amongst them.

It was guilt, and it would not be the last he felt of it.   
  



End file.
